


Frozen

by graceandfire



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 02:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceandfire/pseuds/graceandfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek loses Kyle</p><p>*********************</p><p>When Derek loses Kyle the panic that engulfs him is so huge that his body threatens to stop, just stop. But he can't afford that, he can't, because he has to get Kyle back, he has to, he has to save him--he has to save Kyle because Kyle's not dead, not one of those corpses littering the landscape of post-apocalyptic L.A. Kyle's <i>not dead</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen

When Derek loses Kyle the panic that engulfs him is so huge that his body threatens to stop, just stop. But he can't afford that, he can't, because he has to get Kyle back, he has to, he has to save him--he has to save Kyle because Kyle's not dead, not one of those corpses littering the landscape of post-apocalyptic L.A. Kyle's _not dead._  

But then Derek doesn't find him, doesn't find a trace of his baby brother anywhere and he knows inside, where the panic claws and tears out vicious chunks of his insides that the machines have Kyle, his too small, fragile, human skin and bones--all that he has left that he cares about in this God forsaken world--little brother and panic wins.  
  
He loses days to it.  
  
He doesn't even remember them and, looking back, he has no fucking clue how he survives the blind nothingness of those first post-Kyle days in a world where a single moment's inattention can end your existence.  
  
And then one day the panic switches off like a light switch to be replaced by rage.  
  
Derek loses weeks to the new emotion, reveling in it; taking insane risks because on some level he is insane. He doesn't fucking care about living or dying or anything in between; he just wants to hurt those mother fucking pieces of metal. He should be dead a hundred times and more but somehow he's invulnerable in his wrath, wrapped up in its suffocating black comfort. He takes his only satisfaction in blowing the machines to hell, blowing them to bits of charred, blackened metal; watching the light dim from their eyes and flatline and become nothing but twisted scrap.  
  
It's what he lives for--vengeance. 

Whatever softness lives inside of him is burnt away, not gradually, but all at once, boiling out of him in that same instant the panic leaves and the hate crashes in to replace it. Weeks become months and the grief he feels over Kyle solidifies and freezes into the ice cold core of wrath that becomes his guiding light. As the first madness passes he becomes more cautious, his sense of self preservation reasserting itself. He makes contacts with other humans, teams up when it makes sense--is rational enough to know that he has a better chance of surviving through cooperation. The longer he survives the more machines he can hurt and that's all that really matters.

He learns where their weak spots are. He learns how to trade and scavenge with war in mind instead of basic survival. He learns how to use dogs to provide enough warning to escape.   
  
He learns how to hunt metal.

Somehow years pass this way in a blur of frozen emotions and fighting; years without Kyle; years alone in every way that matters with his only real company the solid core of self-sustaining anger that fuels him. This is his life, all there is, until the day he begins to hear rumours that there's an army being built, that there's a man, a leader who knows how to destroy the machines better than anybody. A new emotion begins to appear in the faces of people he encounters and it takes him awhile to identify the long absent presence of hope: cautious, wary, but hope.  
  
Derek's interested because anything or anyone that will help him more efficiently destroy metal is worth seeking out.

When he sees Kyle standing with a small group of John Connor's soldiers, he curses himself because Kyle's dead, his bones scattered to the winds. He'd stopped looking for signs of the child he'd lost a long time ago. The odd tightness in his chest at seeing the man who reminds Derek of Kyle and their father rolled into one is illogical, irrational and unacceptable. And then the man, kid really, he's maybe sixteen or seventeen, about the age Kyle would've been…looks up from where he's laughing at something and their eyes meet and the kid hesitates, eyes widening, but it's not Kyle. Whatever crazy emotion is trying to crack through Derek's icy shield is dangerous and wrong because it's not Kyle, it's not, it's…

"Derek?" It's a whisper that he sees being shaped more than hears from across the tunnel. 

" _Derek_?!" This time the word is clearly audible, causing heads to turn his way and Derek's not even aware he's shaking his head from side to side in an instinctive gesture of protection because that's not Kyle, that's _not_ Kyle who's approaching now, stride hesitant, green eyes so familiar as hope wells in them, and Derek feels something crack down the middle of his soul, so loud in his ears he almost thinks it's gunfire as unfamiliar, unwelcome, forgotten emotions pour into the fissure left behind, scorching him raw.

"Derek." There are tears in the kids voice and he's got a death grip on Derek's arms now and Derek should be backing away from him, telling the kid no, it's a mistake, he's not…

"I knew the machines didn't kill you. I _knew_ it. I told Connor. I told him you were too tough to die. I told him…" Laughter and pure joy accompany the litany and Kyle's smile shines from the kid's face but it's not, it's _not_...

Derek looks down and realizes he's gripping the kid's arms in return and he mentally orders himself to let go, blinking dumbly at the betrayal when his hands tighten instead.

"Derek." The tone is almost pleading now, jade eyes begging silently for acknowledgement--that this is real in a world where miracles are in scarce supply. "Derek, it's me."

Derek opens his mouth to say 'No, I'm not who you think I am… you're not, you can't be who I need. This isn't real.'

What comes out, rusty and torn instead is a single word.

" _Kyle_."


End file.
